Misery
by NewWings
Summary: The Death Note brings nothing but misery in its wake. Misery for Hilda, a young idealist with dreams of changing the world. Misery for N, who finds that he might be biting off more than he can chew in his investigations of the truth. Both of them knowing that the other could bring happiness or misery, salvation or destruction.
1. Bloodied Hands

Objects of supernatural origin and abilities are never confined to one specific universe. No one truly knows why this is, but then nobody truly knows much beyond their own universe or even their own reality, for that matter.

Take the Death Note, for example. It pops up in universes like a rash. It rarely infects the entire universe, but it wreaks havoc in the sub realities that it infects. The beings of power wherever it pops up call it theirs, but more often than not, they do not truly understand it.

It is objects such as the Death Note that cause can limitless destruction when placed in the hands of a human. In the hands of anything but a human, the Death Note is a simple means of stealing the life force from humans. However, humans can not receive stolen life force from writing names down in the Death Note. Instead that energy goes to the Death Note. What the Death Note does with that stolen energy is subliminally affect its user's mind. The user will grow addicted to using the Note, and as the Note grows stronger, its influence increases. The Death Note will then use its influence to make the unsuspecting user write down more names increasing the vicious cycle.

The cycle ultimately ends when the user dies because the Death Note started sucking away the users lifespan. After that, the Death Note will find another suitable user beginning the cycle anew.

There are discrepancies, of course. A human can always give the Death Note up and the Death Note's effects will disappear from the former user's mind. The only way for it to reassert its influence is through direct contact.

The Death Note's ultimate goals are unknown. Its goal could simply be power, and it could be trying to leech as much life force as possible, always searching for more, an insatiable parasite. Or its intent could be far more sinister.

Both options are equally likely, and it is impossible to tell which without any sort of further study.

Perhaps its ultimate goal is to simply create misery. It would not be a stretch to assume, and the Death Note has brought tragedy to many a victim.

There is no tale of misery, longing, despair, and love quite like what occurred when a Death Note fell into the hands of Hilda White.

o0o0o

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"I'm bored."

"That wasn't an answer."

"Yes it was. I'm bored, which means that this is a good idea."

"How I put up with you, I don't know."

"I make things interesting for you."

"True enough. I might just join you in this insane plan of yours."

"Just you wait. This is the best idea I've had so far."

o0o0o

And so it was that the Death Note fell to the human world. Into a school yard to be specific. Said yard was currently empty at the moment but would be teeming with activity in approximately five minutes when the school bell ended and classes ended for the day.

Despite its sudden appearance, the Death Note was rather inconspicuous. There was no flashing display screaming out, "Here I am! Come pick me up!" Only a plain black notebook with concise instructions on the inside cover, neatly detailing how exactly it was used. The Death Note's arrival went unnoticed by all but one person, and that one person meant all the difference in the world.

It is here that Hilda White comes into play. As she idly gazed out the window in the last few minutes of class, she couldn't help but notice a black notebook fall from seemingly nowhere and settle in the grass. Her electric blue eyes sparked with a lighting curiosity as she pondered where it could have come from.

Possibilities went from the logical someone threw it out a window to the downright unlikely explanation of dimensional wormholes.

As the bell finally rang and Hilda left class, her route just so happened to go through the courtyard and she just so happened to scoop up the little black notebook from where it had fallen in the grass.

Hilda slipped it into her bag to look over when she got home, not knowing the full consequences of that small, seemingly inconsequential action.

But even if she had known, she wouldn't have believed it.

o0o0o

Hilda suppressed a snort. A notebook that killed people if you wrote their name in it? If that wasn't unbelievable then she didn't know what was.

But still, something niggled at the back of her mind. What if the Death Note really could kill people? What would happen if she wrote-

No! Hilda shook her head, trying to clear it. She wasn't going to believe for one second that this was anything more than a joke! And a cruel one at that!

Hilda was going to do the sensible thing, and throw it out the window.

But what if it really worked? What if she threw it and some idiot wrote peoples' names in it? What if someone from school found it and wrote her name in it?

And there she went again. Believing the Death Note worked. Honestly! Hilda hadn't realized that she was that gullible.

Hilda just wanted to sink down and forget she even picked up something this embarrassing. She needed to just get rid of it and forget any of this ever happened.

Hilda paused a moment as a thought occurred to her.

How did she know that the Death Note didn't work?

If Hilda was being objective, then she really had no proof one way or the other. All she had for materialistic evidence was the notebook and the instructions on it. Hilda had seen some other jokes, but they hadn't seemed as real to her. Maybe it was simply because none of them claimed death as their outcome. Or maybe it was because the people telling her about the scams were idiots and the fact that they believed in it was precisely the reason Hilda didn't believe it.

The only way for Hilda to truly ascertain whether or not the Death Note was a hoax was if she wrote somebody's name in it.

But she couldn't do that, because what if she actually killed someone? Nobody deserved to have their life on the line to see if some occult notebook worked. That was just sick.

The only type of person who Hilda honestly felt comfortable killing like that would be a criminal. The world would probably be better off without criminals, anyway.

No! What was she thinking! Murder is murder, even if the one murdered was a criminal! Hilda had heard stories about war criminals in a long ago war who tested new weapons on criminals. The act was despicable then, and at least they had the excuse of war. Hilda didn't even have that, all she had was the pitiful excuse that was her curiosity. And curiosity was no use at all when lives are at stake.

But odds were that the criminal would not, in fact, die. So there wasn't a problem.

Except for the fact that Hilda was honestly considering attempting murder. For no other motive than out of curiosity.

Hilda sighed when she realized that her thoughts were moving in circles. In an attempt to distract herself from her ideological debate, she switched on the TV.

The news flashed on, and the current news story was about a man holding a preschool hostage. They were displaying his name and a picture of his face.

Hilda could write his name down and save all of those children. It would be so easy.

But should she?

The man was armed, and was threatening children. That was wrong, to her ideals. If Hilda did nothing, then she had the childrens' blood on her hands, all because of her own inaction.

But what if she wrote his name down? Would that mean one would die for the sake of the many? Was that wrong?

Hilda supposed that it would be wrong if the man was an innocent victim. But he wasn't. He was a direct threat to people's safety.

But did he have to die for the threat to be eliminated?

If the police were capable of handling the threat, then no, he did not need to die. As was the case if he surrendered right now.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the case here. The police and the man were at a stalemate. The police couldn't do anything for fear of harming the children. And if the man surrendered right now, the police wouldn't let him go free.

Hilda had a solution with the Death Note, assuming it worked. If it didn't, then no harm done. If it did, then she was a murderer.

A murderer who by killing prevented innocent lives from being lost.

Hilda took a deep breath to steady herself and wrote the man's name in neat print. With baited breath she waited an agonizing forty seconds that signaled the end of his life.

Forty seconds passed, and Hilda let out the breath that she didn't know she'd been holding. It really was a hoax-

"-The hostages are coming out of the building! I repeat, the hostages are coming out of the building! Sources say that the man holding them hostage has died of a heart attack!"

Hilda paled. It really worked. He was really dead. She was really a murderer.

The walls of her room seemed to close in around her, and soon she saw no difference between it and a jail cell.

Hilda fled her room and went outside to clear her head.

o0o0o

One of the things Hilda regretted most about leaving Nuvema was the fresh night air.

Nimbasa was okay, she supposed, but she liked taking walks at night in Nuvema more. If she was in Nuvema on a night like tonight, then on the north wind, the smell of wildflowers would drift down into town.

Additionally, it wasn't a good idea to take a walk at this time of night in Nimbasa as it was Nuvema.

Hilda didn't care. Not tonight.

She was a murderer, and she was going to enjoy her fleeting freedom while it lasted.

Wait a minute. How was she going to get caught? There was no real way to connect her to anything.

Actually, the thought that Hilda could get away with murder made her feel sicker than she already was.

She was just another blip under the radar in the failing justice system.

Just like that guy and his friends harassing that girl up the road. People passed by, simply accepting the world for its flaws and making no move to help. Their help would make a difference, yet still they do nothing.

Sometimes Hilda wondered if she was the only one who truly understood justice.

Justice was upholding the ideals of society and oneself. It was not walking idly by when a crime was being committed. Justice was action, because justice cannot occur if everyone looks away from the truth.

Hilda grasped the Death Note tighter in her hands. She hadn't realized that she was still holding it until just then.

She knew the name and face of the guy harassing the girl. He had been expelled from her school last year, for various reasons, including but not limited to bullying, assault, illegal drug use on campus, and vandalism.

Nobody would miss him.

Hilda saw a pen lying on the ground. She picked it up and wrote down his name and wrote the cause of death as a traffic accident.

Forty seconds ticked by. The girl took a chance and bolted across the street. He followed.

At that moment, a truck sped down the road. Hilda watched it happen as if it was slow motion.

The truck honked and tried to brake.

He paused and looked to the side, eyes widening as he saw the truck.

He froze. Still. Unmoving. Like a deer frozen in headlights.

The truck hit him and he moved from the force of the impact.

Then he was still again. But this time he was frozen with death.

Blood had splattered everywhere. Some had even gotten on Hilda.

Hilda bit back a laugh- or was it a sob?-when she realized that the blood had splashed all over her hands.

o0o0o


	2. A Change in Plans

Hilda stared blankly up at her bedroom ceiling. Sleep was futile on a night like tonight. She couldn't help but wonder if she had done the right thing today.

On the one hand, she had saved several people. On the other hand, she had had to kill people to do it.

Was there anything Hilda could have done differently?

Hilda could have done nothing. Or worse, she could have done nothing and watched. She could have just sat there because she'd have to get her hands dirty if she did something.

Filthy with blood. Tainted no matter how hard she scrubbed.

The blood on her hands disgusted Hilda, but the idea of doing nothing disgusted her even more. Having the ability to help someone in need, but refusing to do it because she didn't want to went against one of the ideals she held most dear.

Hilda's actions could stain her entire body black, but it would not matter as long as she never strayed from her ideals.

Criminals were dangerous. They were a threat to society and innocent people. The threat needed to be removed.

Unova's skyrocketing amount of criminals were proving dangerous. The law was currently unable to cope, partially because the police force was incompetent.

Hilda didn't really like the thought of the justice system being useless, but it was true. Everyone on the force was either hopelessly incompetent or hopelessly corrupt. Sometimes both. It might have been funnier if the price of their incompetence wasn't increased crime.

Okay, so Hilda wasn't being totally fair. A relatively small portion of the Police Force was truly incompetent. But their incompetence and corruption weakened the entire system, giving the impression of uselessness.

In other words, they were good enough to get the common criminals, but useless enough to be rendered helpless any time a criminal possessed even a shred of intelligence.

If a case interested N enough, he would solve it, but that was approximately 1 percent of all cases.

Hilda wanted to join the police one day. She could change the system. She could put her mental capacity to good use. She could make a difference.

If Hilda used the Death Note on criminals, then she could start making a difference now instead of waiting until she got into the force.

How much of a difference would it make? It was a matter of years, really. Hilda could finish her senior year of high school, breeze through the next few years of college and then enter the force. Then, after a year or two of proving her worth, she could get assigned to active duty and begin solving cases.

Hilda could wait.

Or could she?

The idea of doing nothing when she could help rankled her. Hilda wasn't proud of her actions earlier that night, but she regretted nothing, which left her at the crossroads she was now.

She could clean her hands of the Death Note. She couldn't let anyone get their hands on it, so she'd throw it in a river. It'd probably be destroyed by the water.

Or she could use the Death Note. She could kill criminals who deserved nothing less than death.

Whichever path Hilda chose, there would be no going back. She wouldn't be able to. Her ideals wouldn't let her.

If Hilda turned away from using the Death Note, her innocence would remain intact. Hilda didn't really need the power to kill, nobody did. And Hilda really didn't want more blood on her hands.

But there was a darker part of Hilda. Behind all of her noble intentions, she had a more selfish motive. Hilda was bored. If she used the Death Note to create an ideal, crime-free world, then while doing so, her boredom with the world and all it contained might just ease a smidgen.

Hilda lay awake that night thinking. She considered all of her options, and reaffirmed her ideologies.

Then Hilda made her final decision.

o0o0o

It was two weeks since he had dropped the Death Note. He was as bored as hell waiting for that time, but he reasoned that two weeks was the minimum amount of time necessary for somebody interesting to pick it up and decide to keep it. Boring humans would discard the Note. Interesting humans would keep it. And the whole point of his plan was to find an interesting human to entertain him. It wouldn't do to end out with a boring human.

The Note was gone from where he had left it. That was a good sign.

He followed the slight pull the Death Note's power had on him until he reached a human home. He floated through the home, searching for the Note and its entertaining human.

When he found the Note, the human was scribbling in it. Her back was turned, so she didn't notice his presence.

Her reaction to him would undoubtedly be entertaining.

"Greetings, lowly mortal."

…

No reaction.

"Uh, hello?"

She didn't even acknowledge his presence. No entertaining reaction at all. How rude!

"Say something already! I didn't drop the Note just so a boring human like you would find it!" Finally, a response! She spun around and did a double take. Undoubtedly terrified by his magnificence.

Then she giggled. His eye twitched.

"What's so funny? I do love a good joke?" He growled menacingly. That was apparently the wrong thing to say, because she started laughing harder.

"I can't believe the Death Note was owned by a candle! A candle!" She gasped out. That was the last straw.

"I am not a candle! Candles wish that they could even come close to reaching my level!" His outburst made her laugh harder, but she finally calmed down.

"So let me get this straight. You were the previous owner of the Death Note."

"Obviously."

"So why are you here? Do you want it back or something?"

"You can keep it if you're not boring. As long as you're interesting, you can keep it. If you're a boring person, could you just do me a favor and give the Note to someone interesting?"

"Right. Give a weapon of mass destruction to mere mortals and then ask for entertainment. That sounds like the best possible way to relieve boredom." she muttered under her breath.

"I know, right?"

"So if you're not a candle, what are you?" She asked curiously, switching subjects.

"I am a Litwick. And if you don't know what that is, you can go to hell."

"A Litwick… The term sounds familiar. Where have I heard it before?" With a flourish she spun around and typed something on her computer.

"No, that can't be right… Pokemon don't exist… But I do have a Litwick right here… If I have a Litwick here, then it's probable that other Pokemon also exist… So why haven't I seen any other Pokemon before?"

"That probably has something to do with the fact that humans and Pokemon live in separate dimensions." He added in helpfully.

"Dimensions! Incredible! And judging by the fact that you are, in fact, here that means that travel between the two dimensions is also possible! Fascinating…" Her eyes were alight with the discovery of possibilities she didn't even know existed a few minutes ago. Then she collected herself.

"So what's your name?" She inquired. He was beginning to think that his human was a bit dim.

"Litwick. Now we know each others names." She narrowed her eyes.

"How do you know my name?" He frowned, puzzled.

"Why wouldn't I? It's human. Duh." She started smirking, for some reason. He didn't like it.

"Humans have different names to distinguish between each other. It gets confusing if we all call each other human." Weird.

"Why? It's what you are, isn't it? And isn't it also confusing to keep track of everyone's names? There are lots of humans out there you know."

"But odds are that any given human will only interact with enough to learn the names of a relatively small number of humans compared to the whole."

"Good point. I like you. I think I'll keep you for a pet." His new pet raised an eyebrow.

"So I'm your pet." She deadpanned.

"Yep. You are now my pet and watching you will be my new source of entertainment. So what are you doing to keep your place as my pet?"

"Keeping my spot as your pet is not one of my long term goals, you know." He gasped, a little melodramatically. His pet was using snark against him? How dare she!

"Well, being my pet should be one of your long term goals. It should. Oh, and your plots are not allowed to be boring. That's a new rule now."

"But Litwick, you don't even know what I'm going to do! You can't just call my plots boring!"

"Well, I just did. What are you plotting, anyways?" She grinned. It looked like she had been waiting for him to ask for some time. He briefly debated whether he should change the subject before she could answer, but decided against it. Plotting was interesting.

"Would you call destroying the old useless Justice System and establishing a new system boring?" She asked innocently. His interest was now officially piqued.

"Tell me more."

She began laying out her plan, piece by piece. He had to admit, killing off criminals using the Death Note, all the while making the old system look more and more incompetent was rather ingenious. It was almost a plan he might think of. Almost.

But he had to admit, he was going to enjoy his time with his pet.

Humans were so interesting.

o0o0o

Hilda contemplated her new pet.

Litwick was interesting, but that didn't mean he was useful.

But still, he was a bit interesting. That, and the only source of intelligent conversation she'd had in a while.

Hilda didn't know what she was going to do with him yet. Odds were, he wouldn't be much help because it was so entertaining to watch her struggle.

But if human psychology was also true for Pokemon, then Litwick wouldn't be able to resist carrying out components of her plans if only so he could be in on the fun.

But before she could do anything, Hilda had to play the part of the executioner. She went back to the Police Database, flipped to the next page on her Death Note, and began writing.

She personally disliked this phase of her plan, but it was, unfortunately, necessary. To be frank, the Note creeped her out. Hilda was unsure if she'd ever be able to sleep soundly again. Her dreams were filled with names and faces, telling her she was a criminal, no better than the rest of them. They swarmed upon her, dragging her down deep into darkness. That was about when she woke up, screaming.

Hilda was lucky that first night because her father was working late that night. And by late, she meant three in the morning late.

Okay, so Hilda's dad working late was a lot more common than it should be. (In Hilda's opinion, he was a workaholic.) But Hilda knew luck had been on her side that time, and that it would look suspicious if she suddenly started getting nightmares out of the blue. People would start closely monitoring her and dig to see what happened.

For Hilda's plan to work, she needed to be left to her own devices.

So Hilda was working on controlling the way she woke up. Her progress was a bit lacking, however. She had stopped screaming, but she hadn't yet managed to wake from a nightmare appearing as though she had just woken from a peaceful slumber. Hilda needed to work on that, still.

So far, Hilda had killed 1,057 criminals through the Death Note. She could connect each name and face with their crimes.

Scratch that. 1,058 criminals.

1,059.

1,060.

Hilda feared the day where she lost count, or the day she forgot one name or face.

Hilda just hoped that her activities would be noticed soon.

o0o0o

Elsewhere, a certain detective had noticed an odd phenomenon.

It seemed that criminals everywhere were mysteriously dying of heart attacks.

There was no way all of the deaths could be accidental; it was too much of a coincidence. And in his experience, there was no such thing.

He'd have to look in to it.

o0o0o


End file.
